It was always you
by Six.Before.Breakfast
Summary: She steals another kiss and then steps out of our apartment, into the sun, and I have to amend my statement. Because Brittany isn't as radiant as the sun. The sun doesn't even hold a candle to her.


**A/N Well hello again! This has been sitting in my "finished" folder for months and I finally re-read it and decided to post it. My dearest Canadian wife is in Rome right now and as such wasn't able to look over this and catch my errors, so anything that's odd and/or wrong is my own mistake. **

**Rated for shower smut that's not very graphic at all. The style is different than I'd usually write, but I like it. Written from Santana's point of view. Hope you enjoy.**

**Disclaimer: They aren't mine. I wish they were...but they aren't.**

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She likes to listen to Latino music while she's getting ready in the morning. Neither of us is sure why, exactly. Maybe it's the way it makes us feel more connected, how she's sharing a part of my heritage. Maybe it's the way the music sounds around us, fills us up with that Latin heat she loves so much, reminds her of every time she's beneath me on the bed. Either way I can't say I really mind. Especially when she dances for me.

I watch from my vantage point against the headboard as she dances around in her underwear, her scantily clad bottom swaying side to side to the beat of the drums. She rocks up on the balls of her feet, shifting her weight left and right before rolling her hips in a well-practiced circle that makes me want her even more.

She tries to sing along but her Spanish is terrible and comes out as sounds that imitate the words and mean nothing. She thinks it's offensive to me and my culture. I just think it's cute. Ultimately, it doesn't matter _what_ it is, only that it's part of who she is around me. I've been teaching her some Spanish, mostly curses and commands that fall out amidst our escapades, when my mind is sex-addled and I can't remember how to speak proper English. It's a lot of work for her, learning the Spanish, but she's taken to it, claiming it's because she wants to know everything about me and share everything with me. Secretly, I think it's just because she wants to know what I'm saying during sex. Most of what comes out of my mouth would preen her ego if I ever told her. All of it would somehow lose its meaning if I said it in English.

She catches my eye in the mirror and her gaze draws me in, entices me closer, until I'm standing from the bed without fully realizing my actions. Soon I'm pressed up against her back, my hands resting on her hips, catching up to her rhythm and following it, letting her body lead while mine follows. It's almost sinful the way her body rocks against mine, the way her hips press back and pull forward in an infuriating tease that only makes me hungrier, needier.

"Sing to me," she whispers as the song changes, voice low and barely carrying over the music. But I'm so close I can hear her loud and clear. I close my eyes and smile as I recognize the song moments after she does. It's our favorite, the song that was playing quietly in the background when she first told me that she didn't want anyone else, she only wanted me. It brought back warm memories of that night, the first night we made love to each other, and I can't help but pull her closer to me with the intent of never letting go.

I press my lips to her ear and sing quietly along, my voice playing easily over the familiar tune. She could sing it to me if she wants, but instead she insists on my rendition, tilting her head and leaning into my body, into my touch. I can feel every inch of her where we're pressed skin to skin, my naked chest scraping against her bra and I want nothing more than to take it off. Before I can, she turns in my arms as the song ends and presses up against me again, her arms winding around my neck and pulling me closer. "_Besame_," she requests, eyes full of love and emotions I can't even begin to name.

I pull her impossibly closer, bowing her back in so that she's dependent on me to stay standing, before I kiss her. It's long and sweet as _dulces_, and when I pull away she frowns and tries to chase my lips. "Tastes nice," she mumbles dejectedly when I chuckle and pull back, out of her reach. I imagine she'd be pouting and crossing her arms if we weren't pressed as close as we were and smile at the image.

"What's so funny?" she asks, tilting her head, a smile in her eyes blue as crystal waters. I just shake my head and kiss her forehead.

"You should finish getting dressed," I mumble against her skin. When I pull back she's pouting again and I can't help but smile. "We're going out today, remember? I'm taking you to the symphony. You have to get all dressed up and stunning so I can show you off."

She twirls a strand of my hair around her finger and looks down at it, not meeting my eyes. She's playing coy when she says, "Can't we take a shower first? We're not leaving until later for the matinee and I'm all hot and sweaty from last night," and I can't help but agree when she lifts her eyes to mine again. I'm helpless when she turns those doe eyes on me and she knows it. She knows what that look does to me.

"A quick one, ok? We got a late start this morning because I was too busy admiring the way you looked tangled in the sheets." She beams and grabs my hands, walking backwards and pulling me into the bathroom.

She bounces on her toes again and drops my hands as she turns. "Take it off?" she asks, turning her head to look at me. I smile and step in close, unlatching her bra and letting it drop to the floor. She wiggles her butt against my hips and I lean down to nip at the back of her shoulder before hooking my fingers into the fabric and pushing it down her legs.

She turns and I stand slowly, sliding my palms along her soft and smooth skin. "Get in the shower," I say when we're standing chest to chest. Her eyes widen slightly and she must see the change her body causes in my gaze because she moves quickly, turning the water on and pulling me under the spray even though the water's still cold. It doesn't matter because it feels great on my heated skin, and I'm not in it very long as I push her against the wall and kiss her.

She gasps into my kiss and threads her fingers through my hair, pulling me closer until my breasts are pressed against hers. We both moan at the slide and I drop my hand between her legs, teasing her. She breaks away from my lips as the water starts to heat up, the spray bouncing off the floor of the shower and against our legs, and presses her lips to my ear. "Please. Quick. I don't even care. Just…please." Her voice is breathy and high and I can feel my legs shake slightly.

I know I told her we have to be fast, but she knows I can't resist teasing. I press my palm to the inside of her thigh and she spreads her legs almost immediately. I pull back and smile at her before licking my lips and leaning down to press my lips to her nipple.

I feel her body react before I hear it, the low moan that escapes on a momentary lack of control. She presses forward, seeking the heat from my mouth, her body molding to mine, following the contour of my body, pressing every available inch of skin together. I hum against her skin and then drop down to my knees, trailing kisses down her stomach at an angle, ending at her perfectly formed hip and sucking lightly there.

She says my name in a breathy tone and that's the final straw. I forget that I'm teasing and tilt my head to kiss her right between her legs. This time, when my name falls from her lips, it's loud and desperate. I smile triumphantly and part my lips, licking around her before pressing inside. Everything tastes so much like _her_, indescribable but _mine_, and I don't realize my hand is moving down my body until a finger presses between my legs.

She moans and her fingers tighten in my hair and from the way her breathing picks up I know she's watching me, my hand moving inside of me in time with my tongue in her. "Oh God," she gasps and presses her hips down lightly against my mouth. I groan in reply and nose at the spot that drives her wild and then she's gone. Three times she grinds down before she's calling my name as loud as she can as her orgasm washes over her.

I work her through it until she's sated and dependent on me to stay standing, then I grip her hips and stand. My nerves are still tingling and on edge but I'll calm down soon. I don't expect her to reciprocate. I don't even expect to finish what my fingers started. I'm perfectly content in pulling her under the spray of the water and kissing her as the water washes over us.

"Do you want me to—?" she asks when I pull away to grab the shampoo. I smile and shake my head and kiss her again and she knows I mean it. I'm glad when she doesn't push, but the glint in her eye tells me she's going to make it up to me later, once we get back from the concert, and a thrill of anticipation runs down my spine because I know she's perfectly capable of making me scream her name.

We clean up quickly and get dressed to more music and it takes longer than it should because we break for a short dance party because we can't help but dance to the song. Finally, an hour later, we're both dressed up and she's perfected my make-up, not that I'm not able to do it myself, but because she likes to, in her words, "enhance my pretty" herself.

Before we leave I take her hand in mine and kiss the ring sitting on her left finger, settled right where it should be to remind everyone that she's mine. In one month she'll be mine forever as far as the state of New York is concerned, though we both know she's been mine for years. "I love you, Brittany," I say against the skin on the back of her hand.

She turns her hand in mine and tilts my chin up so she can look at me. "I love you too, Santana." And she leans in and kisses me, slow and sweet and loving, and I can't help the smile that shows on my face when she pulls back. "You're glowing, Santana," she whispers, like an old joke.

I lean in and smile conspiratorially. "That's because you're as radiant as the sun." She steals another kiss and then steps out of our apartment, into the sun, and I have to amend my statement. Because Brittany isn't as radiant as the sun. The sun doesn't even hold a candle to her.


End file.
